


This Is All Just Happening

by uku



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uku/pseuds/uku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's found a friend. A friend he'd possibly like to - maybe this will go away. Maybe these are new-school-new-place jittery hormones. Yeah. They're friends. They will be friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is All Just Happening

It was an accident.

It just, sort of, happened.

You just look at him and then - you know, it just  _happens_.

There are  _butterflies._

* * *

He'd watched them, laughed at them, rolled his eyes at them all in an attempt to seem as though he wasn't deeply engrossed into the characters and into the film and into all of those emotions and such because - you know,  _reasons_  - but then it just  _happened_  and well what are you supposed to do about that.

This 'love-at-first-sight' thing was some cruel trick the universe wanted to play on him. He hopes their winning the game.

He hopes this won't turn out as shitty as it presumably will.

* * *

Do you want to hear how it happened? How it was the cliche of the  _century_  (but by no means it really was and he's just being a melodramatic idiot) but here goes.

It was his first day here. It was the first day he'd taken those steps up that school into this new place and thinking 'I'll be the new hot guy all the girls will fawn over' but one door-swing later his eyes lock awkwardly with some stranger as that inevitably occurs and his life flashes before him and he's somersaulting and he can't stop. he won't stop. Can't you see it's he who owns the night and damn it is this his 'i-just-fell-in-love-with-you' song because shit.

No he doesn't know his name.

* * *

So his name is Scott. Scott McSomething.

He's the kid who's always carrying an inhaler around and gets benched for every lacrosse game. He's the one who has a facebook that explains all of this information.

Stiles is the one who discovered who he was within twenty-four hours of seeing him.

* * *

They have a class together and he feels the tingle the second he lays eyes on him. There's an empty seat just begging to be sat on next to Scott but he opts for the one on the other side of the room. He has feelings and he doesn't really know what's going on and holy shit he might be gay. It's a little too much and this is still his first day. Yeah he web-searched him on his phone, sue him.

* * *

Thankfully the day begins and ends with no teachers calling attention to the new kid. He climbs into his jeep and heads home to focus on other, blatantly more important things.

What's his name again?

(Scott)

* * *

When he wakes up he's thinks of him and suddenly it's obscenely inappropriate. He reddens into a deep dark abyss of embarrassment and confusion. Who said this was  _fun_?

* * *

Fate isn't real. He wasn't seated next to him because of destiny. It just happened. This is all just happening.

"Hey," Scott says and Stiles jumps out of his reverie and falls out of his chair.

The entire class turns their heads in his direction. He gets up with as much nonchalance as he can muster, hand against his mouth in a slight ahem - "Uh, yeah, hi." He waves with a slight flick of his hand. He takes his seat. He isn't nervous. "I'm Stiles." He wipes at his mouth.

"Scott," he says, sending him a polite smile and shit it's warm.

"Yeah, so - " He has nothing to say. "Uh, yeah - so," he falters. "I don't know," he finishes, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

Scott just laughs, it sounds heavenly when did he start having these emotions. "So what do you think of Beacon Hills?"

* * *

Lunch is good with Scott and suddenly there's potential. He's found a friend. A friend he'd possibly like to - maybe this will go away. Maybe these are new-school-new-place jittery hormones. Yeah. They're friends. They will be friends.

"I used to live in Chicago," Stiles says, stuffing the sandwich into his mouth. "But then my dad got transferred so here I am."

Scott nods, "It's pretty different here, huh."

"Definitely warmer," Stiles replies, "that's as much as I can gather as of yet."

"Right-" Scott trails off, eyes catching on something out of Stiles' peripheral.

He turns, oh.

She's beautiful.

* * *

"You should just ask her out already." Stiles says, pushing at the pull.

Scott chances a glance at her for the hundredth time today. He pauses, shakes his head. "No, it isn't worth it."

"Isn't worth it? You've been gawking at her all day," Stiles gestures obviously in her direction.

"Put your arm down," Scott says, pushing it down, nervously glancing around.

Stiles yelps. He touched him and shit there was electricity or something.

"Are you okay?" Scott asks, giving his arm a once-over.

"Y-yeah." Shit he's stammering. "I should just-I'm gonna go-"

"Yeah, alright." Scott nods, still slightly perturbed. "Oh and lacrosse tryouts are coming up. Thought I'd let you know, I saw you watching us practice a little afterschool yesterday."

Stiles mentally slaps himself in the face: he thought he was acting pretty low-key.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Stiles nods, lips pursed in thought. "Yeah I'll think about it."

He doesn't need to think about it.

* * *

A week turns into a month and they're actually pretty good friends now. Scott's a great guy. And yes he still thinks he's uh, nice looking. But Stiles pretends to believe he doesn't.

* * *

"That game-" Scott starts.

"-was great." Stiles finishes, both rising off the bench and yet again failing to play. They suck together isn't that just adorable.

"Yeah well," Stiles says, packing his things into his car. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

* * *

He doesn't see him tomorrow.

He doesn't see him for a few days actually.

He's a little worried.

* * *

Scott shows up next week looking perfectly normal and perfectly healthy at his locker. Everything's just perfect.

What.

Stiles shoves him in greeting. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Ow," Scott retorts, "what was that for?"

"What was that for?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "I've been trying to contact you for the past week. I thought you died or something."

Scott looks at him then, suddenly tense. He swears his saw a flash of  _something_  but it disappears a second later. "Come on, let's get to class."

Scott walks off. Stiles stands there for a split-second later before catching up, utter confusion written all over his face.

* * *

"Are you gonna tell me what's going or what." Stiles says, sliding into his seat. "I'm your  _friend,_ man. Possibly your  _best friend_  - I mean, if you're cool that because I am but anyway -"

"Not now," Scott growls.

Growls.

Stiles leans in closer, whispering. "Did you just-" Stiles pauses, contemplating if the last five seconds really did occur. "Did you just  _growl_  at me?"

"Like a said," Scott grabs Stiles arm and roughly pushes it away. "Not  _now._ "

Stiles backs off, chancing a worried glance in his direction.

* * *

Practice is nothing sort of usual.

In fact, Scott is suddenly, miraculously good. Like really good. Like holy-shit-what-the-hell-happened-to-you good.

When they're changing in the locker rooms, after congratulations and what-not from the team for his sudden skill, Stiles chances a look.

He never does this, refused to do this the first time he saw Scott turn up his shirt and cause Stiles to inwardly salivate uncontrollably, but he had to make sure. It's a good (and bad) thing he looked.

Sure, Scott was pretty damn attractive before, but now, with all these  _muscles_  and Stiles wondering in the back of his mind  _what_ _is going on_ and  _thank you god_  he gawks.

"Stiles?" Scott asks, pulling a shirt over.

Stiles coughs and chokes on his spit, oh shit hewas  _actually_ salivating. "Fine," he coughs, patting his chest. "C-completely-" He looks over again.  _Shit._  "Completely fine."

He wants to run his hands through every dip.

Oh my god.

* * *

"Hey, can you give me a ride home?" Scott asks, swinging his bag over his shoulder. Stiles catches the muscles in his neck contracting. The flood gates have opened. He curses, it took just one  _look_  and he's back to where he started.

"Hey man, are you sure you're okay? You're turning red."

"What? Yeah," Stiles rubs at the back of his neck. "I'll take you home."

* * *

The ride is unnervingly quiet.

Scott laughs.

Stiles snaps his head. "W-what?" Distractions.

"I'm surprised you haven't started asking yet."

"Asking? Asking what? Oh! Oh right that." Stiles catches himself just in time. He parks in the driveway.

"So, what happened?"

* * *

"So you're telling me," Stiles says, pacing back-and-forth in his room. "That you were  _bitten._ By a- By what?"

"I don't know, but I'm- I'm  _stronger_ and I haven't needed to use my inhaler ever since and my senses feel heightened."

"Heightened?"

"Yeah, like this morning." Scott starts, "I could smell you before I felt you shove me against my locker. But it's not just that, I could smell...anger."

"You can smell what I'm  _feeling_?" He can smell what he's feeling.

"Yeah."

He can smell what he's feeling.

* * *

The night is spent with copious bouts of stress and fear of whether or not Scott could tell and what the hell Scott  _is._

Google becomes his best friend for the night.

* * *

Turns out he's a werewolf - after night after night of research and an unlucky meeting with a guy name Derek. A wolf named Derek. A werewolf named  _Derek._

_What the hell is going on._

* * *

It's passing period when Stiles finds Allison strike up a conversation with his Scott. ( _His_  Scott?)

Jealousy burns through his veins.

* * *

"I saw you talking with Allison earlier," Stiles says 'casually' behind the wheel. Lately Scott's been asking and Stiles's been okay-ing it all so he comes over every day.

"Uh, yeah, I was," Scott says, looking forward. "She asked me out."

Stiles's stomach bottoms out. "She did?" He tries to hide it. He doesn't think it worked.

"I said no," Scott replies immediately, turning to face Stiles.

Stiles glances to his right to catch his eyes. "Oh," he says, a little surprised (and relieved). "Why?"

It's quiet for contemplation. Scott deadpans, confused at his own conclusion: "I don't know."

* * *

"I think we should get it," Stiles decides, hovering over it.

"What? No." Scott says, looking at it again.

"But look at it," he leans down, picking it up. "It's so cute." He squeezes it, the squeak catching Scott's attention.

"Asshole." Scott says, walking away.

Stiles laughs, throwing the dog toy back on the shelf.

* * *

It happens the second week since when Scott decides to wolf out in the middle of the locker room (at least Stiles was the only one in there)

Scott inches closer, teeth bared.

On second thought, maybe not.

* * *

He doesn't know how it happened or what he did but Scott catches himself seconds before the kill. He falls back, slamming and sliding down the lockers.

Stiles lets out the breath he'd been holding for the past few minutes. "I was wondering when that was gonna happen." He slides down to the floor.

"What?"

So Stiles explains.

* * *

"For a second I thought you didn't have that or something," Stiles says as they walk out. "It's been two weeks and  _now_  it happens. It doesn't make any sense."

"Why?"

"It means you've either got really good control of yourself or you've found your anchor."

"Anchor?"

"Yeah, that thing that keeps you grounded. Could be a memory, a person, etcetera." Stiles gestures for effect. "By the way, you should really figure out what that is, especially before the full moon."

Stiles is definitely not looking forward to that.

* * *

But then the night comes and Scott still doesn't know.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to manage," Stiles says, pulling out the handcuffs from the bag.

"What are those," Scott points nervously at them.

"A sex toy. What do you think, dumbass?" Sarcasm is his only defense. "Here, handcuff yourself to the radiator." Because if Stiles did it himself inappropriate thoughts will inevitably flood through his mind. And he's been trying particularly hard to hide these  _feelings._

He does.

Stiles pulls out the dog toy.

"You're kidding me," Scott says.

"What? I thought it was funny," Stiles says, throwing it to Scott.

"Stiles." Scott's voice is hard. "It's starting."

"Okay. Okay just- just breathe. And focus on something that calms you down."

"Anything?" Scott huffs.

"Yeah, anything."

Scott tries. "It's not working," he growls, feeling his claws come out. He pulls at the handcuffs, breath quickening, itching to break free.

This might be a completely stupid thing to do but Stiles moves closer and kneels down in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Come on, Scott, you can do this," he says calmly, gold eyes staring back at him. "Just  _focus._ "

* * *

Ever since the full moon, something's been  _different._

Scott's been different.

He's been, touchy. And it's driving Stiles crazy.

* * *

Well, it's not really touching, but there's a definite closeness that wasn't there before.

It's when Scott reaches over and his fingernails accidentally scrape against his skin, evoking Stiles breath to hitch. It's when he leans over just a little too close and Stiles is entirely too hyper-aware of him that he ends up writing off his assignment and onto his desk.

It's when Stiles swears he looks like he's about ready to eat him alive after he walks out of the shower after practice. _  
_

He can't take it anymore.

* * *

"What are you doing," Stiles says, as Scott reaches over yet again for the eraser.

Scott turns mid-way, extremely close. "Eraser," he says, warm breathe brushing across Stiles's lips.

"No." Stiles leans back and reaches for it a split-second later. He places it in-between them. "What are you  _doing._ "

"Repeating it twice isn't going to help me understand it," Scott replies, leaning back into his chair.

"You're messing with me, right?" Stiles inquires reassuringly.

"I sincerely don't know what you're talking about." Scott says, with as much honesty as he can muster.

"You really don't know? You haven't noticed how  _close_  you've been?"

"Close?"

"I mean," Stiles sighs at his choice of word. " _Intimate._ "

"Intimate."

"Yeah."

"With who?"

Stiles looks at him like he's lost his mind. "Me."

"You?"

"Yeah, dumbass."

"I didn't even know, sorry."

"You don't have to apologize-" Damn. Why did he say that. "It was just weird. Different. It wasn't bad or anything-"

Scott is just looking at him.

"-not that I enjoyed it or something-" He is digging a hole. "I mean, I was-"

He is digging a hole. "-but I mean- really, you can stop me anytime-"

So he does.

With his lips.

Stiles pauses as Scott moves away. "Well, that's- that's one way to do it."

Scott smiles, hands warm against Stiles's cheeks.

"You know, I'm gonna need a full, detailed explanation of this later-" Scott kisses him again, soft and sweet and thrilling.

He breaks it. "-I'm talking word-for-word-"

Scott kisses him again.

"-are you listening to me? I don't think you're listening to me-"

"-Just stop talking."

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if the characters don't sound like themselves, this is my first try writing about them. Also sorry if the ending sounds rushed, I don't really know if it does but anyway thank you for reading :)


End file.
